Coming Aboard
by Kendoka Girl
Summary: So, how did the crew of the Normandy come together? Captain David Anderson received a special command and assignment and has to pick his crew, but politics and intrigue can make it difficult.
1. Chapter 1

W/N - This is just a one shot piece on how the whole thing started and occurs a few days before the beginning of ME1. I wanted to look at character background and motivation as well as a bit at life in the military. Please enjoy. Doozo! Next up - "Driving Miss Tali" a fic on Tali learning to drive the Mako. Many thanks to Padawan Mage again for the motivation and support. :D

**Captain David E. Anderson**

"A hand-picked crew…," he mused, tapping his chin with his fingers. The captain stood tall, his imposing musculature dwarfing his superior officer and his mocha-colored skin stood in contrast to the admiral's pale features. The years had been a little tough on Anderson though and his face showed the lines of worry and stress that had been his constant companion throughout his distinguished career.

The captain looked back to see Admiral Hackett nod. Anderson knew that the old man was the brains and heart behind the push to bring the Systems Alliance Navy to the forefront of the galaxy's militaries and thus, to the forefront of Citadel politics. As Commander, Alliance 5th Fleet, Hackett had become one of the faces synonymous with the Navy throughout the colonies as was Anderson's.

Hackett's eyes were firmly set in his weathered face. "You'll like the _Normandy_," he said in his gravelly voice. "She's a prototype frigate created with help from turian engineers."

"Turian?" Anderson wasn't entirely sure he liked that idea. He wasn't prejudiced by any stretch of the imagination and knew there were a lot of good turians out there, but he knew that their empire had its own agenda. He fought against them during the First Contact War nearly two decades ago back when he was an elite N7, a special forces operator. He was in the famous Class N7-06, the "First of the Best." To start the war, the Turian Empire had ambushed a small Alliance exploration fleet and then went on to conquer the colony of Shanxi. At the young age of 20, Anderson was himself hand picked by Rear Admiral John Grissom to fight in the liberation of the colony. The turians were ill prepared for the speed and ferocity of the Alliance attack and capitulated to Grissom's novel and dynamic tactics. Fortunately, the casualties on both sides were light.

Later, as a staff lieutenant, Anderson was forced to team up with a turian Spectre named Saren and that only served to reinforce his mistrust of the empire. And, as members of the Citadel Council, the turians always seemed to hang humanity out to dry when the opportunity presented itself. Anderson made a little snort.

"I understand your feelings, captain," Hackett said. "There's still a lot of mistrust of the turians among our people…a lot of bad feelings. But this is a new era. Ambassador Udina is pressing for human admission into the Council and cooperation is the key to success here. We all want what's best for humanity and we have to put aside old prejudices."

Anderson had always liked how the admiral was so open minded about things and how his liaison skills got him what he wanted without pissing everyone off. Hackett had climbed the ranks of the Alliance Navy through both strategic skill and political acumen. The captain let out a sigh of acknowledgement. "You're right, sir. It's not easy letting the past go."

"I know you'll do the right thing, David. It's why I selected you for command of the _Normandy_. We've got a special mission for you on her shakedown cruise." There was a glint in the admiral's eye that told Anderson that something big was coming.

"I can see this is going to be interesting."

Admiral Hackett handed him a sealed package with the title – EYES ONLY – TS – PENULTIMATE. The data pad inside was meant only for those with the highest clearances. This had to be huge. Hackett chuckled at some inside joke. "Yes, it is, David. The details are inside, but you're going to be taking along a turian Spectre-"

Anderson recoiled, recalling the contentious mission with Saren. "Sir…."

Hackett held up his finger, silencing the captain. "Hear me out. This Spectre is young with a cooperative spirit. He was a C-Sec officer before being selected and has great respect for humans." The admiral then leaned in as if unveiling a conspiracy. "David, there's a movement afoot to have the first human Spectre selected. We have supporters in the Council."

This was all sounding a little too familiar to Anderson. He'd heard this whole crock twenty years ago. And look how that turned out. He was going to have to force himself to trust Hackett on this one. "Okay sir, I'm listening." He may not have to like it, but he would follow orders.

Hackett put his hand on Anderson's shoulder. "I know you've been down this road before and it's not going to be easy for you. This is precisely why you're the man for the job."

"I _suppose_ this is where I thank you?" the captain said, a little sarcastically. Anderson had known the admiral long enough to poke the bear and there was a lot of trust between them. "So, what's the story with this Spectre, sir?"

"His name is Nihlus and he comes highly recommended by the Council. Last time he was in the Traverse, he was like a one-man army."

Anderson knew how powerful one Spectre could be. He'd seen first hand how much carnage Saren had caused. "Are we expecting trouble?" Anywhere a Spectre went, drama was sure to follow.

"No, but he has a special purpose which I just mentioned. I want to come back to that, but let's talk about your crew first. Whom do you have in mind, David?"

The captain had been thinking about this since the time his command was announced. Sure, he'd been on bigger vessels with more responsibility, but the _Normandy _was special – everything about her was top of the line from the Tantalus Drive Core to the GARDIAN close-in defense systems. That frigate packed the punch of a heavy cruiser and had the first true stealth system in Citadel Space. Even her name was special. Normandy was a region in northern France conquered by Norsemen, who became culturally integrated the feudal system. In the 11th Century, Duke William of Normandy was offered the crown of England by King Edward the Confessor. Upon Edward's death, the matter fell into dispute and William launched an invasion of England in 1066. Against all odds, he triumphed and changed the course of Human history. Much later, in 1944, Allied Supreme Commander Dwight D. Eisenhower launched the invasion of Hitler's Fortress Europa and, against all odds, liberated Europe. Anderson knew that his _Normandy_ would have big shoes to fill and would have to live up to its name.

"Sir, I want Colin Pressly at Navigation; he's been with me for years and he's a good man." Pressley's dad fought with Anderson in the First Contact War too and Colin had the same feelings about aliens as the captain did.

Hackett nodded. "Lieutenant Commander Pressley's a good officer. Consider it done."

Anderson was gaining confidence now and he found that he was liking the idea of this hand-picked crew. "I need Greg Adams in Engineering and Jeff Moreau at the helm.

The admiral took a sudden breath. "Adams I can see, but Moreau? You know the boy can barely walk."

Anderson afforded himself a faint grin. "But damn, can he fly…top of his class. I saw him barrel roll a destroyer during one of those pirate sweeps that keep us so busy. Nearly tore them apart, but it put the ship's guns right on the pirates."

"All right, if you say so, I'll make the call."

It was Hackett's turn to trust the captain now. Despite Moreau's skill behind the helm his condition made him somewhat of a pariah in the starship community. Few captains wanted to take a chance on their pilot shattering a thigh in the middle of a battle for moving the wrong way or sitting funny. Moreau's sarcastic attitude over how he was viewed didn't help his standing in any way either. Anderson was going out on a limb here, but he knew good talent when he saw it. "Thank you, sir. Also, I want Karin Chakwas as our doctor."

"Done. She's a good egg. Kind of a romantic, but steady in a crisis."

Anderson chuckled. "She loves her steely-eyed soldiers."

"What about your marines? You know you get a squad aboard the _Normandy_."

Here's where the captain hadn't given it too much though. A few names floated up on the short list. He made a snap decision. "I need Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko to lead my marines."

"Never heard of him. Shouldn't you pick someone with more experience than a lieutenant."

"He's got a stellar record and I need a biotic onboard."

"I see," said the admiral, stroking his chin. "I can agree with that."

Anderson was pleased as punch by now. It was like a dream come true – a prototype ship under his command that came with the best damn crew in the Alliance fleet. "I'd also like Corporal Richard Jenkins on my squad. He's green, but he has heart." The captain clearly remembered standing tall before Admiral Grissom once, showing that _he_ had heart and Grissom selected him to lead the first assault on the turians at Shanxi. Anderson had run across Jenkins several times and knew the boy had potential to be an N7…if he got a little experience under his belt. He found the boy's manner to be appealing and he had a soft spot for the kid. Anderson stepped back, thinking about the others whom he would lead. "I'll have a list of the rest of the crew for you by tomorrow, sir. I've already got a few names I'm tossing around for my XO."

A wry look came over the admiral's face. "And that brings me back to my original line of thought."

"Sir?"

"The first human Spectre…. Nihlus is going to be aboard the _Normandy_ to evaluate _our _candidate. That person will be your XO."

Anderson was now putting the pieces together. His past was going to play a huge role in this mission. His failure would fuel someone else's success. "I see…. I was considering Hiro Takeda for the job."

Hackett shook his head and the captain felt a tinge of disappointment. "Takeda's slotted for something else. He's a great ship to ship tactician, but he'd make a poor Spectre."

Anderson had to agree. A Spectre needed to be an N7, someone with outstanding physical prowess. "I sense you have some people in mind, sir."

Hackett handed him three dossiers. "Take your time, David. I'll give you until tomorrow."

So, the crew wasn't entirely hand-picked and the job came with strings. Still, Anderson couldn't complain too much. "I'm sure all three candidates are excellent."

"It'll be a tough choice. I had a difficult time narrowing it down to three."

"Thank you for your support, sir. I'll meet with you in the morning."

"Good luck, David. Swing by around 0800," the admiral said, extending his hand. The two had known each other long enough to dispense with salutes in all but the most formal settings.

Anderson took the hand warmly. Admiral Hackett had been a great mentor and an even better friend. When Anderson was at his lowest point twenty years ago, Hackett helped him pick up the pieces and forge an even better career. Now, the admiral had just handed him his greatest challenge yet. As he walked off, he glanced down at the dossiers and raised an eyebrow. Sure, all three were well known in Alliance Navy circles, but he would have never considered any of them as Spectre material. Each was a great officer, but each of them had some interesting…issues.

_Lieutenant Commander Mario Farrare. Bold…aggressive, but too flamboyant for my tastes. Guy's got an ego the size of Jupiter. Can't keep it in his pants either. Making him a Spectre would be like pouring gasoline on an inferno._

_Lieutenant Commander Tseu Bao-Dur. Great tactician…steady in a gunfight, but the guy can't get along with anyone. He alienated everyone on his last cruise. How's he going to liaison with our new allies? We'd end up in the Second Contact War._

_Lieutenant Commander Claire Shepard. Incredible physical prowess…top notch with any weapon, but her personal life…. I don't even want to get into it. Sure, she was a one-woman battalion on Elysium during the Blitz, but all the media attention made her a head case. She was worse than a rock star._

It was going to be a longer night than he thought.

**Lieutenant Commander Claire Shepard**

She had the finest body that money could buy. Thanks to Binary Helix, the genetic enhancements given to her in vitro by her high-ranking navy parents had flourished into characteristics of unbelievable speed, strength, stamina, and smarts. She was easily the match for any human male and genetic tinkering had made gender irrelevant in combat. Tailor-made genes had also given her looks to match, which made her the darling of the media following the Skyllian Blitz, a massive raid on the human colony of Elysium eight years ago. Shepard was on leave, visiting the idyllic, but precariously placed world when the attack came down. Pure incompetence on the part of the provincial guard command allowed the batarian and pirate led forces to sweep the guards aside like so many ants. The entire city lay open to slavers and worse until Shepard launched a one-woman counterattack into the flank of the enemy, inflicting enormous losses on them. Thinking that they had been struck by a whole company of marines, the pirates broke and fled.

In the months following the Blitz, her face became plastered on thousands of electronic billboards across Alliance space and her name became synonymous with the navy itself. Recruits would flow into navy and marine depots with the image in their young heads of her toothy smile, chocolate brown hair, wearing her elite N7 armor. Everywhere she went, reporters and paparazzi shadowed her moves, doing interviews, taking videos, and speculating on her latest paramours…and she ate it up. The brave and happy Claire Shepard had become the paragon of humanity.

Why then, was she miserable?

Shepard sat on her bed in the dark in some posh hotel on Terra Nova. She looked down at the naked backside of some guy she'd picked up in a bar. The dude was now snoring loudly, causing her much irritation. _What was his name?_ She thought it was John or Jake or Jerome something. What did it matter? The sex was mediocre, but she needed it to take the edge off.

Wait, this was Randy or Rob, she recalled. John or Jake or Jerome something was the guy on Arcturus. He had rocked her world. She would have to go back there some time. Shepard took a sip from the glass of wine that was sitting on the nightstand. How did she get like this?

Shepard was the daughter of navy brass, heroes of the First Contact War. Her grandmother was on Rear Admiral John Grissom's expedition when Humanity first made the jump through the Charon Mass Relay, which propelled Earth into a bright new future. She was the descendent of warriors and even had her family's medieval coat of arms tattooed on her ass to prove it. "We're always proud of you," her mother would say, but proud of what? She'd been in the right place at the right time once in her life and the rest was all hype. Was there a gene that could give her happiness? That was what she needed, not the flocks of phony admirers. The attention and adoration of the entire Alliance was on her and the pressure was eating her alive.

"Maybe I should just ETS and go hide out somewhere," she whispered to herself, thinking she might just let her service term expire and leave the military. She could go be a guinea pig for Binary Helix on Noveria or join the small ExoGeni research team on Feros; they needed guards. Something brainless would suit her just fine about now.

Randy or Rob something moaned and rolled over. "Huh? You say something?" he asked sleepily.

"No, just shut up and go back to sleep," she responded tersely and he quickly resumed snoring. This brought her some relief as the sound of his voice made her feel cheap and dirty inside. She thought back onto the time when she stood proudly before the board which accepted her into N7 Selection. Everyone and their kid brother wanted to be an N7 and just getting into Selection was a feat. You had to be the best of the best. The training was the most grueling thing that the most sadistic minds could dream up and, using an old wet navy tradition, there was a brass bell for the weak. "Ring the bell!" the instructors would scream at the less than qualified. At any time, any candidate could ring the bell and would then begin the walk of shame out the door of N7 Selection never to be seen in those hallowed halls again. But Shepard would not be deterred. Twenty-one weeks later, exhausted, cold, and sleep deprived, Lieutenant Claire Shepard pinned on her operator's badge, a silver representation of the legendary sword, Excalibur, with wings of gold. She was the top of Class N7-34, the "Black Knights."

A faint smile came to her lips just thinking about that. Life was simple – survive another day. Even when the Blitz hit Elysium, her body and training kicked in and there was no worry…no fear. She actually would have preferred being back in combat compared to the slow, agonizing death of celebrity that was consuming her day by day. She looked out the window and could see a cameraman crawling around on the balcony and she was half tempted to go out there and throw him off the ledge. But she would be a good girl, like always. Instead, she just hit the controls to close the drapes.

It had to be near morning. With the exception of the vast equatorial deserts, Terra Nova was just like Earth; plants, animals, sunrise, sunset. Like Eden Prime or Elysium, it was a veritable paradise on parts of the planet. Shepard liked this time of day, the time just before dawn. There was something about the coolness on her skin and the smell of the air. Yes, the time had a particular smell to it that pleased her. She took a deep breath, just letting the scent linger in her nostrils. It was cleansing.

Then, she noticed the light blinking on her phone. It was probably some news outlet wanting an interview or a corporation wanting an endorsement. "I'm Commander Shepard and this is my favorite store on Arcturus," she said in practice for the sales pitch. With a grunt, she rolled out of bed, glad to be away from the sleeping dude. The light was blinking in a series telling Shepard that it was a long distance call, brought to her by the comm buoy network that linked worlds thousands of light years apart. "Must be important," she mused out loud.

She hit the receive button without thinking and a familiar face appeared on the monitor. The man started to speak, but then pointed at her. "Commander, you may want to cover up."

Shepard's mouth formed an 'O' and she desperately grabbed for a nearby robe. "Sorry, sir…. It's not quite dawn here yet."

He seemed to realize the time difference and nodded. "Apologies, commander. There is something important I need to discuss with you. Can you go secure?" he asked, prompting her to switch to a channel that used the latest encryption algorithm in the Alliance.

She looked back toward the bed for a second. "Standby, Captain Anderson. I'm going to put you on hold," she said and tapped the button to suspend audio and video. She walked back to the bed and rousted Randy or Rob.

"Get up, I need you to go."

"Huh? What time is it?"

She tossed his clothes on his head. "It's time to go. Get moving." He tried to protest, but she lifted him from the bed with one arm and dropped him on his feet. The look in his eyes told her that he knew not to protest.

"Uhhh, okay. You'll call me later?" he asked as he pulled on his pants. Shepard hustled him towards the door with one hand as she hit the door opening switch with the other.

"Sure thing…see yah." The door closed on his shocked face and she pressed her back against it with a sigh of relief. Damn, that actually felt good. She thought she could hear the paparazzi blitzing the poor guy outside.

"Oh, Captain Anderson. I almost forgot." What could he want? He wasn't in her chain of command. Did one of her indiscretions get back to Alliance Headquarters? Well, he wasn't part of the IG or Inspector Generals so she wasn't being charged with anything. That was a relief. Anderson was a living legend in the Alliance military – he was the real deal, not like her one hit wonder career. She rushed back to her purse and whipped out her Personal Identification Badge or PIB, which allowed her to access Extranet security systems. She plugged it into the card reader. Suddenly, she was back into professional mode. "Going secure. Personal authentication Delta Zulu Two-Five-Three," she said as she pressed her thumb onto the glass pane on the reader. A green light flashed.

"Authentication complete. Secure channel access granted," the computer chimed in a pleasant female voice with a distinct British accent. Captain David Anderson's face reappeared. He looked a little impatient.

"Sorry, sir. There was a small matter I had to take care of first," Shepard said. "I show us secure, top secret." On top of the encryption, the secure channel also emitted an EM wave that defeated audio and video surveillance systems that might be listening in. In that instant, paparazzi within 100 meters were deafened by a piercing, high-pitched squeal though their headsets. Shepard smiled inwardly.

Anderson let out a breath and nodded once. "Good. Let's get down to business, commander. I want you as my XO aboard the _Normandy_. Our shakedown cruise embarks in four days from Arcturus. We'll do a tour of Earth for the brass and then test her through the Mass Relay at Charon."

Shepard paused a moment, somewhat shocked. She narrowed her brows. "Sir, isn't the _Normandy_ the new prototype frigate?" She'd read about the ship and it was impressive. What was the catch here? It had to be a publicity stunt.

"Indeed she is. You came highly recommended by Admiral Hackett. I want you on my team. Ambassador Udina will make the arrangements if you're interested."

Udina? How was the ambassador to the Citadel Council involved in a mere PCS transfer of a lowly lieutenant commander? She squinted one eye in a skeptical look. "Uhh, thank you, sir. What can you tell me about the posting?"

Anderson seemed to read her concern. "Yes, this is out of the ordinary. But rest assured it's only due to the fact that this ship is special and there are Turian interests involved."

There was something in the captain's face that screamed that there was more to this, but Shepard held her tongue. No doubt the rest would reveal itself in time. "That's good to know, sir."

The captain continued, "Commander, I've read your file and you have the skill set that I'm looking for. I want you to keep the crew fit and ready for this shakedown. A lot of eyes will be upon us. After this cruise we're to be attached to Admiral Mikhailovich's scout squadron."

Shepard knew it was a good gig. Frigates and destroyers formed wolfpack squadrons that screened the movement of the fleet and exploited openings. When all was said and done, fast frigates hunted down the crippled and weak and destroyed them. It was like being in the cavalry of old Earth. She liked horses. "I accept, sir. Thank you for the opportunity."

Captain Anderson let out a faint, almost imperceptible smile and his eyes twinkled. "Excellent, commander. I look forward to meeting you on Arcturus in two days. We'll talk more then."

"I look forward to it," she said as the link went down. She pulled her PIB out and replaced it into its case. There was something about the captain that touched her. He had a fatherly way about him that appealed to her. His voice was deep and commanding and he had the look of eagles. Shepard was a student of history and knew that he ranked up there with such greats as Nimitz and Hood. Perhaps some day, she might too…if she could just get this monkey off of her back. Something within her had just changed though. The call from the captain was just what she needed and there was a sense of hope and energy that flowed through her once more. Sure, this was just a gig to show the people of the Alliance her pretty face again, but it was a space gig and she felt most at home in space. Whatever she was doing out there sure beat what she was doing here.

She started to pack her things into her suitcase and made sure to take some reading material along – a historical magazine here, a book on space power projection there. After all, the trip would take a day or so. "And this shakedown cruise is bound to be boring," she said to herself, preparing her mind for the tedium of space trials.


	2. Chapter 2

Writer's notes - Well, I thought it would be a one shot, but the characters had more to say. Thank you very much for your input. I consider myself an action writer/reader and I'm really trying to work on dialog and character building. I wanted to use my own experience to create a sense of military culture and tradition in the characters and explore their motivations. I also wanted to write a kind of edgy, kind of tweaky Shephard. I couldn't resist a good action sequence though and I hope I could bring the ME combat system to life. There's even a nod at the annoying outbursts that everyone makes during an ME battle. At the bottom is a CODEX for some of the acronyms or concepts I threw in to flesh out the culture.

Otanoshimi nasaimase - please enjoy.

**Captain David E. Anderson**

It had been hours since Anderson logged off after his conversation with Lieutenant Commander Shepard. She seemed a little distracted and even scatterbrained at first, but he had to keep in mind that it was about 0400T, or Terra Nova time when he called her. Arcturus time was set to Earth's GMT, also known as Zulu time in the military.

He chuckled to himself. "Yeah, she was probably a little sleepy still," he said out loud, recalling the more than an eyeful that he received when she answered the call. Just as all of the media hype had told the people, she was a looker to be sure, he thought. He blew out a silent whistle and shook his head. It might take a while to get that image out of his mind – he was a man after all. Not that he would do anything about it as she would be working for him soon. Anderson was the consummate professional.

Somehow though, Shepard reminded him of another woman, one he had worked with nearly twenty years ago. That woman helped him through the debacle with Saren, but it never went any further than that. He'd heard through the grapevine that Kahlee Sanders left the Alliance military and went to work for some biotic corporation. Good for her.

He straightened the royal blue tunic of his uniform, which had creases sharp enough to cut yourself on. The silver Excalibur badge that showed his elite N7 status sat tightly on his left breast, exactly a centimeter above the pocket and his gold cuffs and epaulettes shimmered as he turned in the light. Everything about him spoke about dedication and service, tradition and excellence.

The sound of a door opening caught Anderson's attention and he turned to see Admiral Hackett and Ambassador Udina walking through. Hackett looked pleased, a tight grin plastered on his face beneath mostly gray hair. The ambassador was harder to read – he had always looked displeased for as long as Anderson had known him. Udina was a sharp man with sharp features and a sharp tongue to match. Not that he had to like the man, but Anderson knew that the Human Ambassador to the Citadel Council needed to be tough and full of guile.

"Ambassador Udina, Admiral Hackett," the captain said politely with an appropriate head nod to each.

The admiral returned the gesture with a warm smile, but Udina launched right into business. "I made the call, Anderson," the ambassador said. "You'll get your new XO for the _Normandy_. I just _hope_ you made the right decision," he added with hint of rebuke. "There's a _lot_ riding on this."

Anderson had learned to hold his tongue with the man. This was no time to embarrass the Alliance Navy with petty retorts. "I understand, ambassador. We'll do our best."

Udina waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sure you will." The captain could tell that he was not entirely convinced.

"Ambassador, do you have any doubts or concerns about me or Commander Shepard?" He'd read Shepard's record five times last night and he wasn't entirely sure himself. He looked over to Admiral Hackett for support, but the admiral had that old "you can stand on your own, David" look on his face. Anderson had to smile inwardly at that. Between his two mentors he'd always preferred Hackett's quiet warmth to John Grissom's cold cynicism. He knew Hackett was making him defend his choice, which was a good thing.

"Shepard's a prima donna," the ambassador announced grandly as if he were addressing the Council. "She likes to see her face in the news vids, which means she can't keep a secret." Anderson knew he had a point. He'd read the top secret file on the impending mission and man, it was a doozy. Systems Alliance Intelligence and the Science Corps were swarming over the site as they spoke and this whole deal was going to have to be close hold. It wouldn't do to have some pretty face blabbing to the whole galaxy about everything.

"Sure she likes the spotlight, but Shepard's never said anything inappropriate to the media…_ever_," Anderson said with emphasis. The art of strategy had taught him to receive an attack and then counterattack to take the high ground. He was a student of Sun Tzu. "But if anything happens, she has the training and initiative to deal with it. She was the top graduate at Squadron Officers as well as Space Command and Staff. Her counterattack at Elysium was textbook and is required reading at the Academy."

Udina took a step back and narrowed his sharp eyes as if thinking deeply. Anderson had delivered a pointed riposte. "Yes…yes, I see, but what about her father? Will he be a thorn in the side of this mission?"

Anderson had not even thought of that and he needed to work through this quickly. Vice Admiral John M. Shepard was way up the food chain and was the current Director of Alliance Intelligence. He was known to be…overprotective of his only child. The captain knew that sometimes a bluff was the only tactical option. "No, this is not going to be an issue," he said boldly, his chin thrust out. Admiral Shepard knows enough not to jeopardize an ongoing operation. If anything, having his backing will enhance the mission." Whether or not this would pan out to be true was an entirely different matter. Anderson could only hope.

Admiral Hackett cleared his throat at this point, letting Anderson take a needed breath. "Ambassador," said the admiral, "I've already talked to John and we're squared away. And, as Captain Anderson said, John has an incredible intelligence network. It's said that he's even met the Shadow Broker."

This actually seemed to impress Udina. "The Shadow Broker? Yes, I see," he mused, never actually conceding the point…like a good politician.

Anderson had to acknowledge that Shepard had a heavy duty pedigree that dated back to feudal lords of the Middle Ages. Her family had juice. He wondered if Admiral Shepard had somehow pulled some strings to get his daughter on the short list for this gig, but her record did stand on its own. Poor girl had a ton of pressure on her shoulders. That explained a lot about her. "Her connection to Alliance Intell is going to pay off for us," he said, adding weight to the admiral's words.

Udina grunted. "I still think Lieutenant Commander Bao-Dur would be the better choice. His personality profile is better suited for this assignment."

"With all due respect, ambassador," the captain said with a shake of his hand, "I have to disagree. Bao-Dur is a good officer, but we're trying to sell the Council on a human SPECTRE, right? We need someone with a little bit of charm…someone who represents the spirit of cooperation with the Council." If you wanted someone dropped off behind enemy lines for months without any human contact, you wanted Bao-Dur. If you wanted someone to get along with the alien races of the Council, you wanted…well, you didn't want him.

Udina snorted this time. "Very well, Anderson," he said with his characteristic rolled 'r's. "We will see how this will all pan out. The eyes of the Council will be upon all of us. Do not make this harder on me than necessary."

"I wouldn't dream of it, ambassador," Anderson said with just a hint of sarcasm. When Udina gave him a sharp look, the captain feigned ignorance and smiled broadly.

It looked like Udina had had enough verbal sparring for the day and raised his eyebrow. "I am needed back on the Citadel. I trust all of the arrangements will be made _properly_," he said and, with that, he walked off.

Admiral Hackett looked like he was straining to contain a laugh. "You handled yourself magnificently, David. That was classic Sun Tzu."

"If you mean 'know your enemy as you know yourself,' I haven't got a clue what makes him tick," Anderson said, enjoying the levity of the moment. Udina always know how to turn things into a pressure cooker and the captain was glad for the relief.

Hackett shook his head. "No, it was more like win without fighting," he said wryly. "C'mon, let's get a drink and celebrate this." The admiral ushered him back into his office and towards a conference table. As Anderson took a seat, Hackett unlocked his private cabinet and began musing at different bottles. "Do you have any preference, David?"

Anderson knew the admiral to be a cultured individual with a prodigious knowledge of beverages. "Surprise me, sir." The last wine tasting event they had gone to together left the captain with quite the hangover. He wasn't too anxious to repeat that part.

"David, this is no longer official business," Hackett said in mock rebuke. "Call me Steven." He pointed from bottle to bottle until he stopped at one. "Oh, you're going to love this one. A 1er Cru."

"Pardon me, s…er Steven?"

Hackett removed the bottle lovingly and brought it to the table with two bell-shaped glasses. "It's a Cognac, David, bottled in the finest region of France. I paid twelve-hundred credits for this baby."

Anderson suddenly felt guilty. "I don't deserve this. This is way too much."

"Nonsense," Hackett said, waving his hand dismissively before uncorking the bottle, which made a deep, rich sound. "I was saving this for just the right occasion. What you're about to embark on will change Humanity. You bring that thing back and our esteem jumps in the eyes of the Council."

"I'll do it right," Anderson said as he watched Hackett pour out the amber liquid into each glass.

The admiral nodded and slid one glass over to his friend. He picked his own up and began swirling the contents, leaving a golden film along the glass up to the rim. He then brought the glass up to the level of his chin and took a shallow sniff. "Ahhh, I never tire of this, David. Try yours, what do you smell?"

Anderson poked his nose into his glass, but Hackett waved him off. "Try holding it here," the admiral said, keeping the glass lower. "It's not like wine. Cognac will overwhelm your olfactory senses."

The captain could now smell oak and apples with a hint of flowers. It was quite amazing. A light came on and Hackett nodded knowingly, adding, "Now, take a drop or two on your tongue and get a sense of the taste."

Indeed, just a few drops brought out the entire gamut of flavors. "Thank you for sharing this, Steven."

Hackett leaned back into his high-backed chair. His whole office had an 18th Century feel to it with King Charles furnishings and antique nautical instruments tastefully arranged. A brass sextant looked out towards the stars through the window anchoring them with the traditions of the old, wet navy. The captain could imagine his superior on the deck of a First Rate Ship of the Line, wearing a tricorn hat. But Anderson knew that his mentor was not just a refined diplomat, he was a leader. Hackett had been around the block during the liberation of Shanxi, led part of the fleet in the decisive strike to relieve Shepard at Elysium, and masterminded the subsequent pirate suppression campaign that caught the cartels with their pants down. The man was instrumental in the integration of surveillance, intelligence, and communications that made the N7 corps so lethal. The admiral now narrowed his eyes and bored in on Anderson. "How are you doing, David?"

He had to think about that one for a second. "Excited…yes, honored to be part of this operation."

"I sense a little hesitation."

"Well, I'm a bit concerned that I'll be working directly under Ambassador Udina. Being given orders from a politician isn't my cup of tea."

Hackett shook his head. "It can't be helped in this situation as it's already politically charged. However, in the field, you are entirely in command. He has no authority to override any operational decision. Should he try, he'll have me to deal with."

That set the captain at ease. He knew that a sloppy chain of command with political or inexperienced leaders was a recipe for disaster. "I was worried about Austerlitz, Steven."

The admiral chuckled at the inside joke. Austerlitz was one of Napoleon Bonaparte's finest victories and one of Russia's grandest defeats. Political interference got the Imperial Russian Army annihilated. "David, do you know how some of Napoleon's officers opened their bottles of Cognac?"

"Can't say that I do."

"They'd heat up their saber and the neck of the bottle and then cut it open. It was a sign of their prowess with the weapon…a real cavalry type of thing."

"I'll have to see you do that one day, sir," the captain said, eliciting a laugh from both sides.

The admiral then leaned in and pointed his hand at Anderson. "So, have you seen her already, David? Have you seen the _Normandy_?"

He had and she was a beaut. "Sleekest vessel of war I've ever seen and I've seen a few. It'll take me a bit to get used to the turian influences, but I'm keeping an open mind."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. I know the dreadnaught mafia will bitch and moan, but screw them, _Normandy_ is the future," Hackett said, dismissing the complaints of the corps of naval leaders that rallied around big ships. "Funny how history repeats itself. Oh, if I'm correct, Pressly and Adams have already signed aboard. They got here quick."

"I entered them into the ship's register myself. Bob can't stop drooling over the drive core."

"I knew he would," Hackett said. "It cost a pretty penny in Eezo to make it."

"I can imagine." Anderson read the specs on the unit and did the math; the Alliance could have constructed about 12,000 fighters for the same price as the drive core alone. The taxpayers would scream if this mission went south. The thought of the mission brought other questions. "Steven, what are we facing out there? This just seems too easy."

"I was hoping you'd ask. The J2 is telling me that this cat will be out of the bag soon," the admiral said, referring to the 5th Fleet intelligence officer. He pulled out a data file titled AURORA BLUE, the Alliance code name for the operation. "That will draw the batarians for sure. Those crazy bastards just might try a run on a major Alliance colony. The J2 is telling me that batarian splinter group activity is on the rise in the Attican Traverse. One warlord named Balak has gathered a force of flotilla strength." Hackett slid the file over to Anderson.

The captain was feeling more confident in his choice of XO now. After all, it was Shepard who had the most success in fighting batarians. "Thank you. We'll be prepared. And Steven, I think I have the right XO for this job."

Steven Hackett nodded. "I would have picked her as well. God's speed, David," he said as he raised his glass in a toast. "Salut!"

**Lieutenant Commander Claire Shepard**

It was a mad rush to get to the spaceport. She had a fair amount of time before having to report to Arcturus, but waiting around would just make her anxious. For the first time in a while she felt a sense of purpose. She merely threw most of her clothes and belongings into her suitcase and rushed out the door to sprint past a small group of cameramen waiting in the lobby. She'd just buy new clothes when she got to her new duty station. If they wanted her underwear for some reality show they were welcome to them. "I'm checking out," she said to the front desk without stopping or slowing down.

The desk attendant, a man in a nice floral shirt, waved to her. "Do you need help with your bags, Miss Shepard?"

"I'm good to go, no thank you," she said politely.

"We'll see you again soon, Miss Shepard. We hope you enjoyed your stay."

This was a good place. Lots of amenities and they didn't care who she brought up to her room. And, the spa was to die for.

A valet at the curb opened a door for her into a waiting vehicle that hovered over the road. She hopped in as the man tossed her bag into the trunk and she passed him a handful of credits. Shepard settled into the leather seat, glad to be underway. The cab sped off and she looked back over her shoulder at the resort. A bittersweet feeling stuck in her throat as she watched the lobby recede. She'd gotten used to this hedonistic lifestyle, but she knew she was born and bred to protect the Alliance – that was her sworn duty. Somehow she'd wandered away from that. Shepard bit her lower lip. Her hip phone rang, startling her.

"Hello?"

"Hello Claire," a man's deep voice said and Shepard's back stiffened.

"Admiral Shepard…."

"I heard you're on your way to Arcturus." He sounded cheerful and she instantly knew he had been working behind the scenes on something. No, not this…. Please not this. She wanted to earn something this time. Was Anderson in on this whole circus too?

Her throat felt dry. "Yes…I am."

"This is very important, Claire. I'll make sure our resources are at your disposal."

"Thank you, sir." Being granted access to the Systems Alliance Intelligence branch was no small thing. SAI had a tremendous SIGINT and HUMINT network of listening posts and agents who reported information to her father. Still, she would have rather had a lowly scout balloon and carrier pigeons at the moment if he would just let her succeed on her own. She knew he was aware of her lifestyle, but he never said anything and that just ate at her more. All she wanted was…aww crap, she didn't even know what she wanted at this point.

"A lot will be expected from you, Claire, more than at Elysium."

Something piqued her interest. "But isn't this just a showcase for the brass? I know a publicity stunt when I see it."

There was a pause. "No, Claire, this goes way beyond. You'll find out," Admiral Shepard said cryptically. This was something she particularly hated about their conversations and it always made her feel like a child again. Not that her childhood was anything but privilege and advantage. "I expect that you will do your duty and uphold family honor and tradition," he added firmly. Yeah, she'd heard it all before – her lineage in both the United Kingdom and the United States.

"I could do no less, sir."

The line clicked off just as the cab pulled up to the curb of the busy spaceport and Shepard turned off her hip phone, not wanting any further interruptions. She paid the cabbie extra and rushed through the VIP line to her flight. The boarding was uneventful and she settled into her First Class seat to sip orange juice and champagne. As she looked out the window, she realized something about herself – she hated her father's meddling, but she certainly enjoyed the advantages that came with it. It was a painful revelation.

"This is going to be different," she whispered to herself. "The _Normandy _is going to be different. I can do this. I'll show Captain Anderson that I'm not just a one-trick pony."

"I'm sorry," someone in the next seat said.

"Nothing. Just thinking out loud," she said with an embarrassed smile. She looked forward to the viewscreen where members of Parliament were making a public service announcement. They were talking about moving the X57 Asteroid nearer to Terra Nova to mine its contents and turn it into an orbital station. Then she saw some engineering team building massive fusion rockets to propel the asteroid on its long journey.

"It's an amazing project," a man named Simon Atwell announced on the vid. A blonde woman and her obvious relative stood nearby with their thumbs up.

Shepard downed the last of the champagne and curled into the corner of the seat to close her eyes. It wouldn't take too long to get to Arcturus, but she may as well get some sleep. The familiar feeling of drowsiness came on for which she was grateful. Elysium…Elysium…. Would that be all there was to her career? Yes, she performed magnificently there. Everything that she had trained for as an N7 came together. Maybe it was enough. Most officers never even saw combat. She rubbed her nose and then darkness then took her.

**Elysium – 2176**

She'd been hunkered down in a concrete building as explosions and small arms fire peppered the otherwise silence of the city under siege. Lieutenant Claire Shepard wiped the soot from her face and checked the batteries of her kinetic barriers. She'd just survived a fighting retreat from the onslaught of a pirate and batarian led invasion. Two provincial guards had been shot down as they ran alongside her, looking for cover. She felt bad for not being able to save them, but she was thankful that her genetically enhanced body ran faster and jumped higher than theirs did. The flight had drained her shields, but they were just coming back on line. For Pete's Sake, this was supposed to be a vacation after graduating from N7 training.

"The cursed batarians came out of nowhere," she heard a voice say and she pivoted to see a wounded guardsman crouched behind some rubble. His face and sandy brown hair was smeared with blood and red rivulets ran down the front of his armor. "I tried to warn the commander. We were spread too thin, I told her."

"What happened?" she asked. "Things just started blowing up around me and I barely got out of my room with my gear." She noticed that she only had a handful of medigel packs left, but she handed one to the man.

"This is no mere raid," he said with clear anger in his tone. "This is a full scale attack. Three drop ships screamed through the defenses and put about a battalion of slavers and pirates on the ground."

Ever since the political conflict between the batarians and the humans came to a head over colonization rights, the batarians had declared a full scale proxy war against any human colony that proved vulnerable. The Alliance had come to rely on provincial guards or private companies like Elanus Risk Control Services to keep its far-flung empire protected as the navy couldn't possibly cover all bases at once. "Don't the pirates just hit and run?" she asked, taking a careful peek through a shattered window.

"Normally. But these want to wipe us out. Half my platoon was slaughtered in the initial assault," he said as he linked the medigel into his body armor. He took a deep breath and seemed relieved. Then, he handed her a bag full of metal spheres. "You look like Alliance Navy. Here, take some grenades."

"Yeah, Lieutenant Shepard, at your service."

"Sergeant Warshowski, at yours. I was Alliance Marine Corps for five years."

She nodded with a grim smile. "So, what happened to the Triple A grid?" she asked about the air and space defense systems. Elysium was supposed to be top of the line.

Warshowski shook his fist. "Don't get me started. Commander Margot Kimmel…. That's what happened."

"Well, I'd like to know. It might come in handy shortly."

He let out a cynical laugh. "Don't say I didn't warn you. She gets a command bonus, you see, if she comes in below budget for the fiscal year. The grid uses a lot of energy." Shepard's eyes widened, not quite believing what she was hearing. The CO screwed the colony over credits? Warshowski laughed again at her naiveté. "And since no one could guarantee that it would operate perfectly, she said that there was too much liability in using it. Lawsuits and all that. The level of approvals that were needed just to turn the damn thing on was like going through Parliament. So, it was completely inactive when the attack began. No warning…no defense."

"No…no one could be that incompetent," she protested. "Surely not someone in command."

Warshowski's laugh became bitter. "You're young, sweety. You got a long career ahead of you. You'll see."

"Yeah, whatever. Hey look," she said, seeing the enemy drop ships landing in the city square. The sounds of battle had subsided and it looked like the slavers were rounding up survivors.

Warshowski crawled up beside her and took a peek. "Bastards. There's nothing we can do."

A deep burning began in Shepard's gut and this pissed her off. She was an N7 and no damn slavers were going to leave her hiding for her life. "We can counterattack," she said boldly.

"What? Are you crazy? There's only two of us and maybe a handful of surviving guards out there. Those slavers will have you and you don't want to think about that."

She pulled out a small challenge coin from her pocket. It was something that no Alliance service member could do without. Informally, it was proof of who you were and, more importantly, it would get you a free drink if you had one and the other guy didn't.

Warshowski's jaw fell open when he saw it. "Son of a bitch…N7. Well, you got my attention, young lady."

She tapped the switch to her omni-tool and it lit up orange around her wrist. "Upload me a map and the intell on your defense grid. We're going to take the fight to the enemy."

The sergeant tapped his omni-tool and sent the information to Shepard. He seemed to brighten and quickly checked the status of his weapons. "So, what's the plan, lieutenant?"

She let out a wry smile and pointed to her behind. "Stay on my ass and try to keep up," she said, using a well known phrase used by combat leaders since men were shooting at each other. A quick check of her personal sensor suite indicated that the immediate area was clear. She opened the door a crack. "And sergeant, you owe me a drink."

"Be my pleasure, ma'am."

They ran from cover to cover, closing in on the drop site. The enemy ships had powered down for the time being, apparently thinking that all resistance had been crushed. Shepard wanted to hit them right now, real hard, but patience would be needed here. Let them think that no one would fight back. Sun Tzu said that deception was inherent to all warfare. She checked the sensor and knew they were getting close to the site. Her training kicked in and she gave Warshowski the signal to cover her. He took a post and scanned the area with his rifle. She then scurried to another position of cover and took a post, indicating that he should bound ahead. This way, they could leapfrog up to a position in which to attack.

Shepard could now see the drop site. Men, women, and children were lying face down under the guns of the slavers and pirates. It was a pathetic scene. The enemy was counting them like cattle and gloating over the victory. With her enhanced hearing, she could just make out someone saying how the boss was going to control the sector after this, having taken down the largest human colony in the region. Not if she could help it. Warshowski pointed to the area where the people were being held, but Shepard shook her head. She motioned to the drop ships. They were going to go all out or die trying. No Shepard is going to die a coward, her father would often say, and she wasn't going to be the first.

They moved silently behind a wall until they were within a stone's throw of the drop ships. Shepard could feel her blood pumping now as her senses came alive. She could hear two batarians talking just on the other side of the opening. She held up two fingers to Warshowski and drew her dagger from a sheath over her chest. It was long, with a wicked point and a foil grip. Known as the Fairbain-Sykes, the weapon was standard for the British SAS for more than a century until they integrated into the Alliance Military. This particular dagger had been in the Shepard family for a long, long time.

She waited until the sensor showed that the two batarians were vulnerable and then she looked into Warshowski's eyes. She knew he could handle this. "On three," she mouthed silently. One, two, three…. Together, they reached around the opening and she seized one enemy around the neck. With incredible strength, she pulled him off of his feet and back behind the wall and, in one deft flick of her wrist, slid the dagger into his neck under the jaw line. He struggled for just over a second before it was done.

Warshowski had done his part too. Commando work was dirty business, but Shepard had been trained to accept it. The N7 Selection course had almost anesthetized her to the smell of blood. Some deep part of her actually enjoyed the thrill of close combat like this. It made her feel just a little guilty…just a little. Shepard threw the batarian's cloak over her armor and checked the information she had on the defense grid. "Sergeant, when I give the signal, you beat feet for the grid station and power it up."

"I'm not leaving you," he said adamantly.

"It's not open for debate. Besides," she said with a wry grin, "you'll only slow me down."

Shepard walked nonchalantly out from behind the wall, followed by Warshowski. She could see the slavers begin to herd the captives toward the drop ships. The time was just about right, but she knew that no plan survived contact with the enemy. To think otherwise was foolish. They walked with forced calmness toward the boarding ramp of the first ship. A man sat in front, smoking a cigarette, looking over to the herding process. He didn't seem to notice the two's approach. At point blank range, Shepard smoothly drew her Raikou pistol and pressed it against the man's head. The shot rang through the courtyard.

Warshowski immediately began taking aimed shots at the pirates herding the captives. Three went down in a matter of a couple of seconds and Shepard bolted up the ramp. Captives began fleeing in every direction, but the lieutenant had to stay focused. At the top of the ramp, two pirates poked their heads around the opening and were rewarded by close-ranged shots from Shepard's pistol. She reached into her bag of grenades and turned one on. With measured steps she walked inside of the drop ship and tossed the bag into the cockpit. By now, the whole courtyard was in chaos. The confused pirates were firing randomly, unable to figure out what was happening as Warshowski took careful aim. "Hurry up, dammit!" he yelled to her without looking away from his targets.

Shepard sprinted back down the ramp. "Fire in the hole!" A moment later a tremendous blast ripped the air, sending fire and debris in all directions. The shockwave knocked them forward and she could hear the sound of grinding metal as the drop ship tore itself apart. She shook the dust from her hair and blocked out the screaming. Jumping to her feet amid the acrid smoke, Shepard saw two pirates staggering around on fire. Good for them.

A stray round pinged off of her shields, getting her attention and she hauled Warshowski up with one hand. She pointed toward the defensive grid controls. "Go!" He hesitated for a moment, but then ran. Two rounds struck him in the back and he tumbled over. Shepard moved to get him, but a hail of gunfire drove her back behind the cover of mangled and burning debris.

"Dammit, dammit," she cursed, knowing she had gotten the man killed. _C'est la guerre. _Such was war. There would be time to mourn later. She thought about making a break for it to get to the defensive grid herself, but that would be abandoning the captives to death or worse. She pressed her back against the debris and took a deep breath. What did that instructor of hers always say? _Toujours l'audace._ Always bold. What the hell, it was better than pushing paper.

Using the targeting link with her helmet mounted sight, she stuck her assault rifle out and let the optics do the work while she was still behind cover. It wasn't as accurate, but it would give her the picture of the battlefield. A careless batarian wandered in front of her muzzle and she pressed the trigger. A stream of rounds tore him to shreds. Before anyone could get the range on her, she bolted for the second ship amid the zip of near missed shots. Some of the captives had now picked up weapons and were keeping the pirates busy. She strafed past one pirate, dropping him in his tracks with a quick burst. Another was just bringing his weapon to bear.

"I will destroy you!" he yelled.

Shepard butt stroked him in the face with the stock of her rifle, sending teeth flying. "Not today," she quipped as she ran past and up the boarding ramp. Without breaking stride, she switched off to her Katana shotgun at the landing. She hurled a grenade through the door. Blast and frag shattered the corridor inside and screams tore the air. She popped around the corner to see several pirates staggering about or dead on the ground. A press of the trigger knocked two flat on their backs with buckshot. There was a sound behind her and she pivoted into a kneeling position, swinging the muzzle 180 degrees around from below. A man was just taking aim at her when a load of buckshot tore his innards to ribbons.

Shepard calmly walked to the cockpit and sat at the gunnery station. She hit the controls for the PA as she activated the ships weapons. "People of Elysium," she announced through the ship's exterior speakers. "Help is on the way. You must fight back!" Then, she zeroed in on a cluster of pirates and let blaze with the heavy guns of the ship. High caliber rounds sizzled through the trees and bushes that they were behind and ripped through ceramic, flesh, and bone. She slewed the turret around to a new set of targets and unloaded, turning the pirates into red mulch. With her other hand, she tapped into the pirate communications network and began to transmit. "Second squad, on me! Advance in from the south. Third squad, covering fire!" she called out to nonexistent units.

The pirate chatter was confused and disjointed. Men were being dispatched to deal with imaginary threats. "Ellias, we're being hit by Alliance forces in company strength. We can't hold them!"

A deep rumbling voice crackled over the line. "I am _not_ losing this battle! I staked everything on an easy victory. Who is leading this counterattack?"

Shepard chucked as she gunned down another enemy cluster. This was forcing them to disperse and lower their cooperative firepower. "Why, it's l'il ole me Ellias," she said sweetly in her best American Southern Belle. Her emotions were running high now, amped up from the adrenaline and she didn't see that the third ship was slewing its turrets in on her. A crushing sound like the ringing of a huge gong blasted through Shepard's ship and roiling smoke and fire ran through the halls. The cockpit lights dimmed and flickered. "We've been hit," she said and knew that she had been in one place too long. In a running battle you had to keep, well…running. Bits of metal shot through the cockpit, one lodging in her thigh through her barriers. It was like a bee sting at first and she winced. She gave a quick thanks to Binary Helix for, if not for her enhancements, she'd be rolling on the deck in agony.

With an afterthought, Shepard yanked the metal shard out and began rushing back toward the hatch. Under the pounding from the third ship, the commandeered vessel was coming apart. Gaping holes appeared in the hull along with smoke and flying shrapnel. Just as she reached the hatch, the landing struts of the ship gave way and it began to lurch to starboard, forcing Shepard to dive and roll away.

As the ship came crashing down, she leapt behind some rubble where a handful of freed ERCS guards were taking cover. She noticed a few of them had weapons and were taking pot shots back at the pirates. "You're the one who attacked them," a guard said to her.

"Lieutenant Shepard, Alliance Navy. I was on leave when the blitz happened," she said and then looked into each of their eyes. They were scared, damn scared. Then, a series of thuds hammered the concrete block that they were stuck behind. The third ship's heavy weaponry was zeroing in them. Shepard's sensors also told her that an enemy squad was moving to their flank. If they stayed any longer, they were dead.

With a steady hand, she grabbed the one who looked like the leader. She had to portray confidence. She had to lead by example and be at the front. No one would willingly die for an ersatz soldier in a fancy uniform who couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag or a REMF dictator who had his nose firmly up a CO's behind. There had to be a bigger cause to motivate people. "This is for Elysium. This is for your families. If you want to live, follow me!" There were timid nods, but she knew they would come. It was all in the eyes.

Her first step nearly ended the whole affair and a round flashed against her shields. She'd come too far to stop now and bulled through the impact. With her shotgun pulled in tight into her shoulder with her right hand, Shepard flung a smoke grenade in front of the last ship with her left. Black, oily clouds burst upward creating a screen against visual, IR, and UV targeting. The ship's heavy guns continued barking, but the explosive rounds just whizzed past them.

Shepard let out her most visceral shout as she ran at the flanking force. Leaping through smoke and over flame, she landed amidst them and unleashed a carnage of buckshot. Three pirates doubled over, their blood spraying over the lieutenant. Behind her, she could hear the shouts of her few followers, keeping the pace. Bullets whizzed past in the cloudy chaos as men fell around her and the ship's guns began taking out their own troops. Continuing to yell at the top of her lungs, Shepard just whipped the muzzle of her shotgun about, not bothering to aim before she pulled the trigger. A batarian's head came apart in front of her before the weapon shrieked from overheating. Using the shotgun like a baseball bat, she clubbed a pirate on the side of the head. Blood, brains, and bullets were everywhere.

An explosion tore the air and her ears rang like church bells. Shepard blinked and realized that her helmet was gone. She began hacking from the smoke, until she saw a massive batarian closing on her. He, too, was screaming and had fire in his four eyes. Letting go of the shotgun, she whipped her pistol out and unleashed a torrent of rounds. Small holes appeared in his head and a red spray came out the back. His momentum carried him forward though and he slammed into Shepard like a Mack Truck.

The weight of the impact stunned her for a moment. She knew she had to get out of there quickly, but a shove failed to dislodge the twitching body. "Dammit," she swore as she pushed again and the body came off, but not due to her efforts.

Three ERCS men then hauled her to her feet. "We've got them on the run, lieutenant!"

Indeed, pirates were scrambling in all directions, some stupidly yelling, "Enemies are everywhere!" Shepard took a moment to take out her sniper rifle and put a few rounds in their backs. Never let a wavering opponent recover.

Now, the smoke began to clear and she could see the ground littered with pirates and batarians and a handful of guards. A nagging sensation gnawed at her innards though. Oh yeah, the last drop ship. She turned to see its turrets zeroing in on them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau**

The young man walked with great difficulty even with leg braces and the most modern of crutches. With every slow step his foot dragged behind for a moment before he could bring it ahead and set it down properly. Unlike other people, Joker had to think about every step, every movement of his leg. If not, his bones would snap like twigs.

He made his way, one foot at a time, off of the shuttle that had just landed at Arcturus, the capitol of the Systems Alliance. Joker was very cognizant of the short stares that he was getting from people in the crowded space port. He imagined them wondering how a poor crippled boy could be wearing such a sharp Alliance Navy uniform. Yeah, despite it being the latter part of the 22nd Century, there was still a lot of prejudice and misconception about the physically disabled. He saw one man narrow his eyes at him, obviously wondering about Joker's abilities as an officer. Moreau just looked him dead in the eye with a flare of his nostrils and the man looked away. Joker laughed inside and took a moment to straighten his shiny silver wings that sat just above his chest pocket. He wanted everyone to see those wings and the years of pain and dedication that it took to earn them. Joker had beaten out 1200 pilot candidates just to sit in a training cockpit and then had beaten out 1500 pilots to stand here at this place at this time.

He looked back at the man who was already receding into the crowd. "Yeah, keep on walking," he said under his breath. "You don't want to tangle with Joker."

Despite his bravado, Joker was now tiring from his efforts to get to his new ship. Every step strained his arms, legs, and feet and he had a light sheen of perspiration coating his face. He blew out a long breath and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve.

"Need some help?" a woman said as she passed by.

"Can you fly?"

The woman looked confused. "Uhh, no. What does that have to do with anything?"

Joker made a smirk. "Well, if you can't fly, I don't need your help." No one helped him get to this point and no one need help him the rest of the way. He had a big chip on his shoulder about that.

Her eyes widened in shock and insult. "Fine, whatever," she said as she turned and walked away.

"All right, see yah." He made a big smirk, thinking he had made some kind of point as he scratched at the scraggly beard he'd been growing out for more than a week. He had a feeling that Captain Anderson might not like the facial hair, but it was within regulation…just barely. And besides, the captain wanted him to fly, not look like he was ready for the Navy Ball.

Having rested sufficiently, Joker continued to hobble through the bustling spaceport until he came to the tram that would take him to Alliance Navy Personnel Command. He pulled himself along and into the tram just before the doors hissed closed. His legs were aching by this time and he took a seat next to a navy commander, all decked out in his Sunday best. Joker could tell that the man was looking him over, wondering about his leg braces and his crutches. How could a crippled boy possibly wear the same uniform? He snorted and caught the man staring. "S'up?" he said with a bump of his eyebrows. He invited a confrontation by this gross breach of protocol, but the man merely looked away, embarrassed.

The tram came to a stop and Joker grunted to stand and pull himself out the door. Now in Alliance Fleet territory, there were only uniforms and civilian contractors here. Everyone in the area worked for "the man." A marine checked his ID and pointed the way to the personnel section. Shuffling into the chilly office, he leaned against the counter.

"Joker's here," he told the receptionist, a young woman sporting a Crewman 2nd Class pip. Ah, another bright shiny recruit to further the dream of humanity. Chicks always dug the hobbling on crutches routine.

She looked up and scanned his face and then his rank. "I'm sorry, sir?"

He looked shocked. "What? You don't know Joker…the most amazing pilot in the Alliance Navy? The man capable of landing a ship on a dime in a meteor storm? The very-" He suddenly felt a presence behind him. He didn't know how, but he could feel eyes boring into the back of his head. He gulped hard.

Joker pinched up his face and looked at the receptionist. "He's behind me, right?"

The woman narrowed one eye at him and then stood up ramrod straight. "Captain on deck!"

Flight Officer Jeff Moreau sighed. "Awww shit. I can't catch a break." He turned around and it wasn't pretty. Captain David Anderson, hero a hundred times over and icon in the Alliance Navy looked immensely displeased. He had that tight lipped, tight jaw look that could've set Joker on fire. Joker tried to stand at attention, but one of his crutches fell out and clattered on the deck. "Smooth move, Moreau," he mumbled.

Anderson merely snorted and shook his head. "I'm paying you to fly, Joker, not to make a fool of yourself."

"Right, captain. Sorry."

"When you're finished inprocessing report your ass to the _Normandy_ at Slip 37. Commander Pressly will log you aboard. You can stow your gear in the crew quarters."

Joker scanned the captain's face for a sign of mirth…a grin, a twinkle in his eye, anything, but all he got from the man was hard and cold, spit and polish. "Aye, sir!"

This was going to be a long shakedown cruise.

**Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko**

The pain meds were just beginning to take the edge off of the migraine. With his eyes closed tightly, he rubbed his temples with both hands to sooth the throbbing. There were days he just wanted to rip that L2 implant out. Well, he was one of the lucky ones – the implant gave him considerable biotic strength, but for some of the other L2's…it was best not to think about them. Being a biotic was certainly a double-edged sword. On the one hand, biotics were a very new thing to the Human Race and there was quite a lot of superstition and even fear regarding these "mind powers." Some people honestly believed that biotics could read or control minds, which was simply not the case. Rather, it gave the user telekinesis or the ability to throw things around or even…snap a neck. Right now though, Kaiden Alenko would have much rather have been a regular Joe.

"Are you okay, lieutenant?" he heard someone ask. Through the migraine, it seemed like whoever it was speaking to him, they were in a washing machine. Alenko couldn't even tell if it was male or female.

"Ugh." He only vaguely recalled sitting down in the _Normandy's _crew mess and drinking some water before the headache came on. It was all a big blur since he inprocessed – forms, ID cards, security passes, and more forms. The _Normandy _was state of the art and thus major clearances were needed. After all of the bureaucracy was finally over he could feel that familiar dull throbbing coming on. He now felt a friendly hand on his back and took a deep breath to focus. "Sorry, it's my implant. Happens from time to time." He looked up to see a handsome gray-haired woman.

"Ah, you must be an L2. I'm Doctor Chakwas," the woman said. Alenko knew her accent to be English, but couldn't quite place the regional dialect. Manchester, perhaps?

"Nice to meet you, doctor," he said slowly. The red haze in his vision was just starting to fade and he could now see that her white uniform was neatly pressed and she presented a most professional appearance. "I'm Lieutenant Alenko, Kaidan Alenko."

Doctor Chakwas tugged gently on his arm. "Well, lieutenant, why don't you follow me? We'll get you back ship shape in no time. I have just the thing."

Alenko had nothing better to do at the moment, but he felt guilty just for feeling like crap when he could see the rest of the crew rushing around like ants, preparing the ship for departure. He was the squad leader after all and should be responsible for checking his marines in. He tried to shake his head, but it just made the pain worse.

"I won't take no for an answer, lieutenant," the doctor insisted in her kindly way. She ushered him to the starboard hatch on the mess deck and it opened with a hiss. "Come, have a seat."

Kaiden sat on one of the beds and found it to be nice and soft. A welcome surprise as he had expected one of those typical navy bunks that were full of rocks. Before he could speak, Doctor Chakwas pressed a white patch onto his neck. "What's that?"

"It's similar to Medigel, but affects the Central Nervous System. It keeps all of those neurons from firing off pain signals. You'll begin to feel some relief about-"

"Ahhhhh," he sighed. It was like a vise grip had been removed from his head. "Wow, thanks doctor."

She rubbed his back in a motherly way, full of warmth and caring. "You're welcome," she said. Then, her expression became serious. "I can't give you too many of these though. Long-term suppression of your pain receptors is not a good thing. Sometimes, you'll have to endure the headache."

"Not a problem. I've lived this long with the migraines. Thanks again. I should get back to my marines."

The doctor's hand kept him from rising. "Not so fast, lieutenant. Just rest for a few minutes. No one will die if you're not there this instant. Besides, I could use the company."

Despite his reluctance to stay, Alenko couldn't refuse. The doctor had this old world charm about her that he found that he liked. "Fair enough. How'd you know I was an L2?" The L2 implant had a huge variation in results, some biotics had incredible power, but some could barely vibrate a glass of water.

"The symptoms fit. The L3's are more stable. We're you born after the Singapore incident?"

He nodded. The doctor knew her biotics. "I was," he said and he could see that she knew what he went through at Jump Zero. Well, maybe not the whole story. That, he kept locked away inside a little compartment in his biotic mind. Suddenly, he felt like changing the subject. "So, what do you think about our CO?"

"Firm, but fair. He's definitely the one to get us through any scrapes if we run into one."

Kaiden liked to do his research and had read up on Captain David Anderson. "He's got a list of commendations a kilometer long. I think we're in good hands." He did have a very positive feeling about everyone on the _Normandy _that he'd met or read about so far. "Who's the XO? Scuttlebutt says it's Mario Farrare from N7."

The doctor shook her head. "No…definitely not. Farrare's a showboat anyway."

Kaiden was surprised at her negative reaction. He'd never met Farrare, but the man won battles. What more could a marine want? Uurah. "Who is it then?"

"We'll get Claire Shepard from N7."

"Shepard?" he asked, searching his brain for intell on the woman. He knew he'd heard the name before. Then, an image of a smiling woman on the vids came to him. "Oh yes…Star of Terra from the Skyllian Blitz. I know her…well, I've seen her on dozens of news clips and vids. I think she was even on a game show once or twice."

The doctor seemed pleased with the selection of XO. "Despite the media hype, she is a tough cookie. I met her a few years ago, after the Blitz and she was always down on herself…never good enough, never fast enough. Daddy issues," she said knowingly. "Poppycock. Her career stands proudly against any officer in the fleet."

"You have a lot of respect for her."

"My son joined because of her. You know, she was always at the schools, talking to kids, telling them about the bright future of humanity among the stars."

"I look forward to working for her then."

The door hissed open and a bearded young man dragged himself in using crutches. Kaiden noticed his pilot wings. "You must be our helmsman," he said. Strangely, Alenko didn't care a lick that the man was disabled. He'd seen enough bigotry and injustice at BaAt or Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training.

The man immediately brightened as if he were expected. He spread his hands with a wry smile. "Hey everyone, Joker's here." The doctor seemed unimpressed.

Kaiden had no idea what he was talking about. "Uh, okay. If you say so." He could already tell this Joker seemed to have an awfully high opinion of himself.

Joker merely snorted and sat on the next bed. With some effort, he swung his legs up using his hands for help. "Perfect landing," he said, mostly to himself.

Doctor Chakwas patted Kaiden on the back. "Sorry, lieutenant. We'll pick up again later."

Alenko hopped down. "Not a problem, doctor. I have to get back to work anyway. It's been a pleasure." He walked past Joker and gave a head nod and received a cocky eyebrow bump in return. As he walked out the door, he realized that he hadn't thought about BaAT in some time…and a sweet girl named Rahna. Kaiden let out a long sigh just as a baby-faced marine came up to him.

"Corporal Richard Jenkins reporting for duty, sir!" The boy was all piss and vinegar, standing at attention like a good marine.

"At ease, corporal. You got your bunk assignment yet?"

"Uurah, sir. I just saw the quartermaster on the lower deck too. I got my weapons and armor and I'm totally squared away, sir."

Kaiden knew that he'd better get down there too. Quartermasters could be odd beasts, sometimes very accommodating, sometimes very finicky. If he didn't hurry, he might get stuck with one of those crappy Lancer I assault rifles. Some marines joked that it was better to throw rocks than have one of those. "Good to go, corporal. We'll hold a squad briefing at 1600. I'll see you then." He kind of wished that Jenkins would wander away at this point, but the boy held fast.

"Sir," he said with a sense of wonder. "The quartermaster gave me one of those Lancer I assault rifles. He said he'd saved it just for me."

Kaiden almost laughed out loud, but he didn't want to shake the boy's confidence. "We'll see if we can get you some mods for the weapon. I better get down there now and take a look. Dismissed, corporal."

Jenkins stood there for just a second before he realized that Alenko didn't want to talk to him anymore. "Uh, roger that, sir. See you at 1600." He started to walk away, appearing to hope that Kaiden would continue the conversation, but when it didn't happen, he scurried off.

Kaiden chuckled to himself. Jenkins was a good kid, but damn was he green.

**Elysium – 2176**

On the "Good-Bad" scale, this was very bad. The smoke shroud had blown away, leaving Lieutenant Shepard and her small band of frightened guards completely exposed. She stared down the barrels of the guns on two turrets of the last drop ship – one dorsal and one port side. She could see a man, with a look of glee training the guns on her group. A cold sense of fear began to creep into her belly and she would only have a moment to decide their fate.

_This is going to suck._

It was time to harness that fear. With a maniacal yell, she bolted at the ship, leaving her comrades behind. "Run!" she ordered as she flung an incendiary grenade up at the ship. Best to save the guards with a distraction. Men behind her scattered for cover and the sphere detonated on the port turret. White hot phosphorus sprayed over the metal, which soon glowed orange and began to melt. The turret collapsed in on itself, its guns warping into twisted shapes.

Shepard darted to the side just as the dorsal turret opened up, its deep barking reports telling her that this was a high caliber weapon. In addition, a pirate leaned out of the egress hatch and began drawing a bead on her. She tried to zigzag between the stream of metal being shot at her, but a round flashed off of her shields. Only potshots from her posse were keeping the sniper at bay. Shepard took a step forward to try and get off a shot, but two explosive shells detonated nearby, throwing up dirt and grass and bits of wood. She covered her eyes for a moment and rolled away, bringing her assault rifle up. The sniper was shifting his weapon to follow her, but Shepard was faster. The reticule in the optics of her Tsunami rifle instantly lined up with her eye and she pressed the trigger. A short, controlled burst liquefied his chest and he tumbled from the door.

Two more explosions rattled her teeth as debris flew into her face. Blocking with one hand, Shepard fell to one knee. Despite her nearly inhuman constitution she was tired. The battle had raged for more than two uninterrupted hours and she had run the equivalent of several kilometers under fire. As she pushed herself to move, she could hear the warbling drone of approaching ships.

_Crap, I can't catch a break._

Shepard chanced a look to gain situational awareness of the new situation and was surprised to see Alliance attack UAV's closing rapidly. The unmanned aerial vehicles were all part of the defense grid. That old warhorse, Warshowski, had actually made it. The lead UAV popped off a missile that streaked into the drop ship and shredded the dorsal turret. The two flanking drones strafed pirates in the open and their jerking, twisting forms were perforated by high caliber rounds. This was the chance she was waiting for.

The lieutenant darted up the ramp to the drop ship and hurled a Mark XIV grenade through the hatch. The fusion device detonated two seconds later and horrific screams echoed out the opening. Shepard peeked around the corner and saw several pirates literally melting from the intense blast of radiation. It wasn't pretty. They were no threat now and she leapt past them toward what she knew to be the command center of the ship. She saw movement up ahead and saw a pirate raising a weapon and knew she had to act fast. In the blink of an eye, she raised the muzzle and pressed the trigger, spitting out a burst of metal that mushroomed on impact with the man's head. Once past the skull, the rounds fragmented, scattering metal in all directions to bounce around like pinballs. Such was the technology of modern firearms.

The man pitched backward in a red mist to fall heavily on the deck and Shepard flung another grenade down the corridor. Once it left her hand, stabilizing fins popped out of the housing and it sailed like a Frisbee into a gathering cluster of pirates. As the grenade landed in their midst, one man tried to pick it up while the others attempted to flee. Unfortunately for them it exploded into a mist of cryo condensate, spraying freezing particles over them. The one man shrieked as his arm shattered like glass. Others now stood frozen in place like statues. With a feral growl, Shepard charged into them, firing quick bursts to finish them off.

She leapt through the door into the command center and into a hail of fire. Rounds pinged off of the bulkhead and other sensitive electronics, sending a shower of sparks over her. Her shields flashed several times before she slid behind cover. Without bothering to look, she stuck her rifle up over the table and fired blindly, hoping for a lucky hit or just to keep their heads down. In her military studies, Shepard had read about her ancestor, who was a Ranger in Vietnam. Apparently, he never actually saw any of his kills such was the ferocity of battle. She could empathize with him now.

Shepard was in a vulnerable position, pinned down by multiple opponents. A flanking maneuver was sure to come soon if these clowns had any tactical skill. Maybe this could work to her advantage. She slapped a proximity mine onto the table and quickly crawled away. As she reached another table she heard men assaulting her former position. She had to smile.

The explosion ripped through the command center, showering the room with flaming debris. Bodies were flung into the air like rag dolls. Whatever came next, this drop ship had suffered so much damage it wasn't going far. This was for honor and revenge now. Shepard popped up and drew a bead on a stunned batarian and dropped him with a press of the trigger. For a moment it looked like the room was empty, but something grabbed the foregrip of her weapon and tore it from her hands. She hadn't seen the krogan crouched down on the other side of the table.

The massive lizard flung her weapon away like a toy and tried to slam its fist into her. On instinct, she sidestepped and drew her pistol. From the hip, she just tilted the weapon up and sent armor piercing rounds into its belly. This only seemed to piss it off though and it backhanded her across the cheek. For a moment, Shepard saw stars. She had forgotten about the raw fury of a krogan and how redundant organs made them a bitch to kill. The armored beast ripped a piece of a fallen support strut from the ceiling and drew it back overhead. Shepard rolled into a crouching position – her timing had to be perfect.

As the metal beam came down, Shepard slid out of the way and drew her dagger in one motion. She knew the krogan's hide was tough and almost invulnerable, so there was only one target to hit. As the beam smashed onto the deck, she thrust the point of the weapon into its eye. The dagger sunk all the way in up to the hilts and the lizard froze, making a ghastly gurgling noise. It jerked around for a moment more before crashing to the ground. Shepard put her back to the wall in exhaustion and then sank to her knees.

"Hey lazy," she heard a voice say. "You just going to sit around all day?"

She laughed. "Screw you, Warshowski. About time you and the cavalry got here," she said as soldiers filed through the enemy ship, rounding up pirates. "You owe me a drink."

He squatted down in front of her and wiped soot off of her forehead. "I came prepared," he said as he handed her a lukewarm can of beer. "It's all I have. Sorry."

"Hmm, Bud Light…," she said with mock disappointment, but it was the best damn beer she'd ever had and she drained it in one long gulp.

**Lieutenant Commander Claire Shepard**

She awoke with a start, her muscles tense and ready for a fight. Licking her lips, she looked around, almost expecting to see pirates and batarians swarming around her. The poor man sitting in the next seat looked a bit worried, even frightened. "Sorry, bad dream."

"Apparently. Are you okay?"

"Yes, it happens from time to time."

"Care to talk about it?"

"I was in a battle long ago," she said somewhat evasively and adjusted the hem on her skirt. She hadn't talked about it much in the past. The media had pretty much said it all – historical videos had picked the whole action apart, second by second, and there were plenty of made for TV movies about the Skyllian Blitz.

He narrowed his eyes and recognition seemed to take hold. "Why you're…from Elysium."

"Yep, that's me."

He extended his hand. "I'm Ron Kim. It's an honor to meet you, commander." She shook it with a smile. She thought him reasonably handsome and well dressed began to get some ideas in her head just because she was bored and anxious. However, the announcement came through the cabin telling them that landing was imminent. They listened for a minute before the man continued. "So, what brings you to Arcturus, commander?"

"Call me Claire. I'm taking a position as the XO of a frigate."

"Sounds interesting Claire. Care to discuss it further over a drink?"

It was just what she was hoping he'd say. She was starting to feel edgy again and he might be just what she needed for an hour or two. She'd just about given up trying to rationalize her behavior. "Why, I'd love to."

The landing was smooth and they disembarked without delay and made their way to the space port bar. Like all space port bars it had gaudy neon signs and overpriced drinks. This one had a tropical motif. She slung her purse onto the table and he pulled out the seat for her. "What's your poison?" he asked.

"Surprise me."

A virtual intelligence or VI took their order and rousted up a Mai Tai for each of them. Ron took his glass and raised it. "To your new posting, Claire."

"Thank you. So, what brings _you_ to Arcturus?"

"I'm a rep for Binary Helix and I'm here to negotiate a contract with the Alliance for genetic enhancements."

She had to smile. "Really? Well, I'm your best product then."

He looked confused at first, but then understood. "Yes, I recall seeing a show on your enhancements. I must say that our work perfected all of your attributes," he said, outlining her face with both of his hands. "You look even better in person."

Yep, he'd do. She slid her hand over his. Arcturus had a lot of cheap hotels. She was about to stand up and pull him along when something gnawed at her. Somewhere, deep down, Claire Shepard realized that she'd been given a second chance…a second lease on life and dignity. Captain Anderson had chosen her to help him lead the crew of the _Normandy_ and to uphold the highest traditions of the Navy. She recalled her time at the Academy and the ideals of duty, honor, Alliance. Setting the example was a must. There were other ways to take the edge off…alone. "Thank you, Ron. I must admit a part of me wants to spend more time with you, but duty calls. I appreciate the drink. Perhaps we'll meet again some time."

He looked visibly disappointed, but smiled in a gentlemanly way. "Of course. I wish you good fortune in your posting, Claire. Here's my card if you ever wish to talk."

She felt immensely relieved and pushed back from the table. She put the card in her purse. "Take care, Ron. I may take you up on that." With a last smile, she turned and walked away towards the personnel center.

When she was out of sight, Ron took out his hip phone and hit the speed dial to Cerberus. "It's me. She'll be signing onto the _Normandy_ shortly."

**Captain David Anderson**

Captain Anderson had just finished putting the final touches on arranging his quarters. Rank did have its privileges. As befitting a high-ranking naval officer, he had put up some paintings of famous warships and military leaders. As a Londoner, he particularly liked the reproduction of the Battle of Trafalgar by Turner. A brass plaque on the frame of the painting said that _England Expects Every Man To Do His Duty_. This was an ideal that Anderson lived and breathed. As he stood, admiring the detail of the HMS Victory in the artwork, the chime on his door sounded.

"Come in."

The hatch opened and a tall, thin turian entered and made a respectful bow. "Captain Anderson, I am Nihlus Kryik, the Council's representative on this mission," he said in the peculiar turian tone of voice and it gave the captain a familiar cold prickly in his gut.

So, the SPECTRE had finally arrived. He was tall for a turian with white face paint as befitting his clan. His confident stance and spit shined armor spoke to his experience and dedication. The captain thought about extending his hand, but he was not overly familiar with turian customs. Instead, he returned Nihlus' gesture thinking it the safest bet. "Welcome aboard. I've set up special quarters for you."

Nihlus made a wave of his three-fingered hand. "Not necessary, captain. I prefer to bunk with the crew. I need no special favors."

"Very well. I'll have Chief Guiterrez set you up with a bunk and a ration card. I had the cook stock the galley with turian food though."

"That's very kind of you," Nihlus said with a curt nod. Human food imparted no nutritional value for turians and, in some cases, could make them very ill. "Shall we get down to business, captain?"

Anderson took a seat at his desk and offered one to the SPECTRE. "Please."

Again, Nihlus waved him off. "Thank you, no. I prefer to stand. When does she arrive?"

The captain quickly checked the manifest. "Our log says that she just cleared the personnel section. Shall we go meet her?"

"Indeed."

Together, they walked up to the Combat Information Center or CIC. The Navigator, Colin Pressly, took note of their approach. "Captain on deck!" Anderson could see Pressly eyeing the turian and knew just what the man was thinking.

"As you were," the captain said in passing. "We shove off for Earth in two hours, commander. Is she ready?"

"All systems are green, sir," Pressly announced as he bounced on his heels nervously. The Navigator was a good officer if a bit jumpy. Sometimes, he could be wound a little too tight.

"Outstanding. Carry on." Anderson was glad for the report. He really wanted to impress the SPECTRE and thus the Council. The smoothness of this mission would greatly enhance goodwill towards the Alliance. They pressed on toward the forward hatch past systems technicians manning the consoles just aft of the Bridge. Well, it was actually more of a cockpit due to the turian design – the Commanding Officer would stand even further aft back in the CIC. This would take some getting use to. At the hatch he saw Joker sitting in the pilot's seat, running diagnostics. The pilot was a great kid – he just needed to knock that chip off of his shoulder. "Joker, open the hatch."

As the hatch hissed upward, Corporal Jenkins scurried up to meet them. "Sorry, sir." Jenkins was supposed to be there to help greet Lieutenant Commander Shepard. It was naval tradition.

Anderson accepted the apology. There was no need to get upset over this small faux pas…as long as it didn't become a pattern with the young marine. He snapped his fingers and Jenkins came to attention and blew a small whistle in a low, then high, then low note. Claire Shepard stepped through the opening, dressed in a sharply pressed, royal blue uniform befitting her rank. The silver N7 badge was perfectly pinned above her left breast and her golden cuff braids and epaulettes were neatly arranged. The commander was taller than he expected, having only seen her in vids and through a commlink. In fact, they stood eye to eye. Now, she seemed much different than before, much more serious in bearing and she was already making a good impression on the captain. An officer's appearance spoke volumes about their professionalism.

Shepard walked smartly up to him and clicked her heels. "Lieutenant Commander Claire Shepard reporting for duty. Permission to come aboard, captain." She gave him a sharp salute, which he returned in kind.

"Permission granted. Welcome aboard, commander."

Shepard took a symbolic step across the threshold. She gave a curious glance towards Nihlus and he already knew what she was thinking. "Walk with me, commander. We have much to discuss with Nihlus. He's the Council's SPECTRE overseeing the _Normandy's _stealth system testing."

"Very good, sir."

He could see the wheels turning in her head and he was worried that she wouldn't buy the cover story for the mission. Right now, it was 'need to know' and she didn't need to know for the moment. There would be time to talk about it later. As they began to walk aft to his office, he noticed Nihlus observing the commander quite closely – it looked like the evaluation had begun. Hopefully, this time things would go more smoothly, but he wasn't holding his breath. Would Shepard end up like him, left shafted and bitter by the Council? He had learned the hard way to keep one suspicious eye open at anything the Council did for humanity. However, Anderson was an officer, sworn to uphold the ideals of the Alliance and he would do everything in his power to deliver the first human SPECTRE regardless of his personal feelings.

As they walked by the CIC, he could see Shepard taking in her surroundings and carefully examining the various instruments and consoles. Like Nihlus, he, too, was studying his XO. She walked with a powerful grace born of relentless physical training and she held her head high with the confidence of a leader. She was someone the men would follow. They went down a deck and into the captain's stateroom. Anderson took his seat behind the desk and offered one to Shepard and Nihlus, who declined again.

"Commander," said the turian abruptly, "your service record is impressive. I've read the reports on your action at Elysium."

Her cheeks went a little red. "Thank you, Nihlus. I was just doing my duty."

"Now even the classified documents only tell part of the story. I know that you almost single-handedly defeated a battalion of pirates and three drop ships, but what I don't know is what went on inside your head."

Anderson saw her raise an eyebrow. He could almost read her mind and knew she was thinking that 'what the hell does this have to do with stealth systems.' Shepard took a breath. "Well, I won't lie – I was scared and pissed off. Yeah, those pirates really pissed me off."

Nihlus seemed to think on her answer. "I am very intrigued by your race's approach to warfare. We turians can be cold-hearted soldiers, nearly impervious to fear," he said, but not in a condescending way. "However, we do not display the type of initiative that you did in that assault. I was particularly interested in the ferocity and tactical flexibility that you used."

"Speed and violence of action," she said plainly.

"Pardon me?"

"It's the tactical doctrine of the N7's – hit hard, hit fast, hit often. And, above all, don't let your enemy recover. By maintaining the initiative we stay inside of his decision loop and can dictate the terms of battle."

Anderson had to smile. She knew her stuff. It caught him a little by surprise that a woman so beautiful could be so violent and that he had to think of her as a special forces operator and not just a woman.

Nihlus pondered again before speaking. "How did your training impact on the action?"

"After twenty-one weeks of hell in N7 Selection," she began, looking Anderson square in the eye, "I can swim underwater for twenty minutes and I can put a three-round burst in a man's head at 100 meters. Everything that I did on Elysium was a result of that training." She knew that the captain was also an N7 and that there was a certain camaraderie and profound respect for members of that elite community. Anderson gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

Nihlus appeared to like the answer. "What is your philosophy on having to kill in the line of duty?"

"I have none. I kill the enemies of the Alliance whenever and wherever needed. I am but a tool of Parliament when all other tools for peace fail."

"Very good, commander. That's all I have for now. I'll let you get settled and then we'll talk more."

Anderson was glad that this was wrapping up. He still had a lot of things to do and needed to get to them before they got underway. As he rose, Shepard popped up at attention and he waved her off. "Dismissed, commander." As she turned to go, he added, "Commander, I understand that you're a student of history. I think we'll get along nicely."

"I am and thank you, sir."

As he watched them depart, David Anderson sat back down and fully appreciated the wisdom of Admiral Steven Hackett. They had made the right choice.

**Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko**

There were a billion and one things to do before they shoved off and the taskings were coming in fast and furious. He knew that the captain liked a tight ship and that everything from deck plates to boots needed to be spit shined. They would be going to Earth to do a dog and pony show for the brass and every centimeter of the _Normandy _was going to be polished. It was a matter of pride.

"Put your backs into it, boys," Alenko told his marines as they ran buffers over the deck in the landing bay. He himself rubbed metal polish into the bulkheads near the M35 Mako armored fighting vehicle. The smell of chemicals was heavy in the air. "Jenkins, I want to see myself in that deck plate." Kaidan wasn't usually a hard ass. In fact, he considered himself more of the sensitive, thoughtful type, but for the next hour, he was a marine and the squad leader for that matter. Everything that happened on this deck was his responsibility and he wouldn't let the captain down. "We need a sense of urgency, people!"

As he dipped his rag into a can of polish he saw someone coming off of the lift. It took him a moment to figure it out. Why'd she have to come down here at a time like this?

"Attention on deck!"

The marines dropped everything and bolted up for the XO. She waved her hand. "As you were. I didn't mean to interrupt."

The rest of the squad resumed working, leaving Kaiden to deal with the XO. "Ma'am, with all due respect, we're not inspection ready yet."

"Relax, lieutenant, I'm not here to inspect anything. I'm here to help. Hand me a rag and a can of polish and give me section of bulkhead."

Kaiden was taken aback for a second and narrowed one eye. "Are you…serious, ma'am?"

"As a heart attack."

He tentatively handed her a rag. "You can set up next to me. We could use all the help we can get."

"It's been a while since I polished bulkheads, so you're going to have to be patient with me."

Suddenly, he felt a little mischievous. "You could scrub the latrine instead, ma'am." Oh, why did he just say that? What a dumb thing to say to your new XO.

She took it in stride. "Nah, I leave that for the privates and corporals. Rank does have some privileges."

Kaiden breathed a sigh of relief. "You know, commander, I think I'm going to like working with you. You actually have a sense of humor."


End file.
